Frontier
Adventures
By Mike Alberti

The Frontier is one of the only places in Albuquerque where
you can go with your friends at midnight Saturday and again
with your family at 8 Sunday morning. It’s the place to meet
up before the big football game or to go with a study group
before your algebra final. It’s where to plan a Friday night that’s
barely gotten started and to go when the night’s over but it’s
too early to go home.

The Frontier is always open, and the food is relatively cheap.
The Denny’s right down the street is open 24 hours and you
can get a cheaper burger at Rex’s on Harvard. But no matter
what time of the day or night you go to the Frontier, you’re likely
to meet someone there who you know. So is it the food, the location, the atmosphere?
What makes the Frontier such a popular hangout? I went 10 times in three weeks
to find out.

The Frontier, directly across from the University of New
Mexico, was originally designed to cater to university students. College kids
tend to have thin wallets and busy schedules, and the restaurant is a better
place to study than a dorm room. But when I visited, I almost always found
as many high schoolers as college students waiting in line. They were the
ones I talked to, trying to find out what it is about the place that makes
them go there week after week.

Some credited the food. It is hard to resist a breakfast
burrito, a sweet roll and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Others credited the
location: They were close, they were hungry.

But as I sat at a table with my blank notebook, eating western-style
hashbrowns and watching all manner of people file in and out of the big front
doors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it isn’t just the green
chile stew and the pictures of John Wayne drawing people to the Frontier every
weekend. There’s something about the place that I just couldn’t
pinpoint. After my fourth or fifth visit, still unable to figure it out, I
had all but decided to scrap the article all together.

And then, a miracle happened. Well, actually, I wouldn’t
quite call it a miracle. In fact, it really wasn’t even a good experience.

I was sitting in the back room, quietly laboring over this story,
when a guy I’ve never seen walks through the door. He looked about my
age, tall, with dark hair and a tattoo on his head. He scanned the room and
walked up to my table. Then, he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and stood
up, too shocked to say anything. He ran out, pretending to cry. Everyone sitting
around me laughed. After I stopped being angry and my disbelief turned into
mild confusion, I began to laugh with them.

After more than 30 years as a youth hot spot, the Frontier
has some stories to tell. I realized that most of the kids I talked to have
had a few similar experiences that, well, just wouldn’t happen anywhere
else. Instead of asking them what they’re doing there, I needed to be
asking them what they’ve done.

Most people had stories to tell, and most people didn’t
want their names attached. Which begs the question, how much is fact and how
much is exaggeration. Those who didn’t have stories had still heard
some good ones. They all add up to the legend of the Frontier.
One Highland senior tells about how he got hit by a car and broke his arm
outside. His friends finish the story with details about their trip to the
emergency room.

An Albuquerque High thespian tells how he was saved by a
manager and a security guard after he was approached by a threatening vagrant
and asked for spare change.

Two blond girls from Cibola tell how they saw a man run naked
through the parking lot.

A Highland soccer player tells how she tripped while running
up to the counter. While falling, she grabbed onto the legs of a man standing
nearby and, as she went down, so did his pants.

Lisa from Valley tells how she was approached by a bare-chested
man. “Hey, I’ve lost my shirt. Can I have your number?”

And yet, the Frontier does not strike anyone as a dangerous
place. Maybe it’s the pictures of John Wayne, or maybe it’s the
fact that the security guards often seem to outnumber the customers, but the
restaurant feels very safe.

There aren’t many places that offer both the feeling
of security and the promise that something entertaining might very well happen.

It isn’t the quality of the green chile stew or the
freshness of the tortillas. It isn’t the affordability of the food,
or the hours, or the location. It’s the history. It’s the potential.
You can eat someplace else, but you probably won’t see anything worth
the gas money. You can plan your night out someplace else, but chances are
the place you go isn’t going to give you any ideas. It isn’t that
anyone wants to be surprise kissed, or go to the hospital, or that the Highland
soccer player wants to break any indecent exposure laws. It’s just that,
well, anything can happen at the Frontier. If you’re going somewhere
anyway, why not take a front row seat with your grilled cheese?